


You'll Never Walk Alone

by Velichorr



Series: VWverse: In Sunlight and Shadow [5]
Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, Sorry Not Sorry, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velichorr/pseuds/Velichorr
Summary: Sylvia visits Hans' grave on his birthday and reflects on her loss. Takes place during Bridge.
Relationships: Hans Landa/Original Female Character(s)
Series: VWverse: In Sunlight and Shadow [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684861
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. You'll Never Walk Alone

_Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you’ll never walk alone._

-Rodgers and Hammerstein, Carousel

Sylvia made sure to visit Hans’ gave on his birthday. By that point, it had been five months since his death. She was struggling through a winter that never seemed to end.

“Happy birthday, Hans.” She choked out, blinking back tears. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.

He would have been eighty-six today. Closer to ninety than not. Still, Sylvia would gladly accept the time they were given. As Hans had repeatedly pointed out, many people didn’t even make it to eighty-five. And most of them were much worse off than him. She smiled shakily as she remembered.

Hans had understood the _quality,_ the value of life. Not everyone did. If he couldn’t enjoy life, couldn’t truly participate in it, there was no point in going on. From the moment they got the diagnosis, Hans knew his time was up. No chemotherapy, no radiation. He would accept his fate and die at home. He was ready. But he was also keenly aware of how much pain his death would cause her.

Today was a sunny day, with a blue watercolor sky. No snow on the ground yet. But it was still cold and chilly, and the winter wind seemed to pierce through her clothes.

“You know, I baked a cake today. I had to do _something._ ” Sylvia told him. “But I’ll never be able to eat the whole thing. I’ll have to give the rest to friends, neighbors…Whoever’s interested.”  
  
She continued with her ritual of talking to him. Any passersby would have thought she was crazy, but she didn’t care. It gave her comfort. Damn what anyone else thought.

“I can’t believe you celebrated your birthday last year and everything was fine. We were so happy then. We had no idea what was going to happen…” Sylvia shook her head, exhaled shakily. Trying to stay composed. “Happy birthday, Hans, wherever you are. I hope, if there’s something after this, you’re eating all the strudel you want. Because you deserve it. It’s your day.” She allowed herself to smile at the image. “I can’t stop thinking about spring. It seems so far away, though. Sometimes I feel like it’ll never come.”

Sylvia sat down on the grass in front of his grave. It was dry and brittle, but she didn’t care. She felt closer to Hans, sitting here and talking to him like this.

“It’s hard. It’s so _hard._ I know you tried to prepare me, but…You can’t really prepare for this. The whole time, you were only thinking about me. Am I coping? Will I be okay? How can I keep living? Most people can only think about themselves, especially when they’re _dying,_ for fuck’s sake. God, if someone told me that thirty-six years ago, I would have thought they were fucking crazy. My first impression of you, _liebling,_ was that you were a narcissistic self-absorbed prick. But you know what? You saved my life when you should have killed me. You had every reason to hate me, but you didn’t. You saved me then, and I think you saved me now.” Sylvia’s voice broke, and her eyes blurred with tears. She reached up to wipe them away.

“Part of me wishes you were here, that we were eating cake and having a great time together. But you’re not here. It was time for you to leave, and I kissed you and sent you on your way. I had thirty-five years with you. That’s a very long time, but sometimes it seems so short. Time flies when you’re in love, I guess. I did everything you wanted, Hans. I hope you’re proud of me. I hope you think I’m doing enough.”

Her thoughts turned to Hans’ book. It was currently being edited, and would be published in the fall. That was something she both anticipated and dreaded.

“But I think you are proud of me. I really do. I don’t know, it’s just a feeling I have. I keep thinking about when it’s going to get easier. But maybe it never will. It’s something I have to live with.” She reached out to trace the engraved letters of his name.

“Hey, at least I can be happy about one thing. It’s better than nothing, right? I’m so glad you’re free now. I’m happy that you’re all right, and you’re not in pain anymore. I was so _fixated_ on keeping you comfortable, making sure you weren’t in pain, and you were more concerned about me!”

Sylvia stood up. She felt almost physically lightened. “I’m glad you’re all right.” She said again, in a whisper. “Now I have to learn to be all right. Somehow.”

And she would take it one day at a time until that day came. As Sylvia walked through the cemetery gates, she felt something she hadn't felt since before Hans died: hope.


	2. You can sing this song when I'm gone

_I don't know no love songs_   
_And I can't sing the blues anymore_   
_But I can sing this song_   
_And you can sing this song_

_When I'm gone_

-James Taylor, You Can Close Your Eyes

  
  
  
Fall, 1981

  
  
Solo was growing like a proverbial weed. He was about nine months old now, and still as rambunctious as the day Sylvia brought him home- if not more so. His energy seemed endless. If he wasn’t charging all over the house with a toy in his mouth, he was out walking, or running through fallen leaves. Sylvia was so grateful for Solo. He made her life just a little less lonely. Of course, she had her family, but they didn’t always have time to visit. Solo was always there.

With a dog, it was just a bit easier to talk to people. Children ran up to pet him, and adults always remarked on how well-behaved he was. She wasn’t that sad, strange, lonely, woman anymore. At least, not in public. At home was a different story. She couldn’t believe this was her third fall without Hans. Had it really been _that_ long? It didn’t feel like it. In October, it was hard for Sylvia not to feel a bit bitter, and wistful for what could have been. The doctor had given them until October at the latest. That was his optimistic prediction. Four months at most. They got two months instead.

It was a difficult situation no matter how one looked at it. If Sylvia had her way, Hans would have stayed longer, but she didn’t want him to suffer, either. She couldn’t bear that. Watching him slowly decline had been excruciating. It left her feeling almost physically drained. She would have settled for four months, in ideal circumstances. But they weren’t ideal. By mid-August, Sylvia knew Hans didn’t have much time left. It had taken a toll on both of them. And so, with a heavy heart, she had let him go. It was something she still hadn’t recovered from, even now.

Solo made things a lot better, and Sylvia was grateful for that. But the house was still so _quiet_ without Hans. She couldn’t get over it. She missed having someone to talk to, and their trademark back-and-forth. She didn’t touch his clothes, his books, or other belongings unless she had to. She wanted to keep everything the way it was when he was alive. Like a shrine or a museum to his memory. Frozen in time. Like Hans had just gone out to run an errand and would be back any minute. If only.

But outside the house, the seasons changed, and life went on. The pain wasn’t as intense as it had been, but it never went away. She had learned to stop hoping it would go away and instead learned to cope with it. It wasn’t getting easier, but it was getting _manageable._ She could deal with that. If Sylvia believed in God, she might have been angry with Him- or at the very least, disgruntled. But she didn’t, so she would have to direct those feelings elsewhere.

Hans had been smoking since he was what? Fourteen? Fifteen? It was as natural to him as breathing. _He brought it on himself._ It was so easy to say shit like that. For her part, Sylvia had tried to get Hans to cut back as he got older, but he ignored her. As frustrating as that was, he was an adult who could make his own choices. It was, after all, his body and not hers.

Sylvia still remembered feeling that dread and foreboding ten years ago. That first creeping feeling of _something isn’t quite right._ Her husband, who had never been sick a day in his life, became markedly unhealthy. The sudden weight loss. The cough that wouldn’t go away. He tired easily, had episodes where he couldn’t catch his breath. But Hans _refused_ to see a doctor until Sylvia found him leaning over the bathroom sink, coughing up blood.

Then they found out it was cancer. It was _terrifying,_ and, for a brief time, their world was upended. But everything worked out in the end. At least they got eight good years before everything fell apart. Some people weren’t that lucky. Hans lived to be eighty-five, an age many people didn’t reach. He had a good death. But he felt guilty for making it this far. He was always weighed down by the shame, and the overwhelming guilt of what he had done.

It was only in death, Sylvia realized, that he could finally be at peace. But part of her still felt bitter. If only she believed in God, it would have been so easy to scream and yell and vent her frustrations to some higher power. But she didn’t.

So, on her bad days, she would be angry at death. Was it silly? Yes. Childish? A little. But she had to do _something_ with these feelings. You couldn’t argue with death any more than you could argue with the weather. It took what it wanted, and it didn’t give a fuck about your feelings.

Death wasn’t a bad dream you could wake up from. Trying to fight it was about as productive as fighting a brick wall. All you got was bloody knuckles and an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment. Sylvia often found herself wondering if there was something after death. She wasn’t one to believe in an afterlife- and neither was Hans- but it was better than nothing. She didn’t believe in heaven. Or in hell, for that matter. But she hoped, desperately hoped, there was something good after death, and they would see each other again someday. If only for a fleeting moment.

But until then, she had to keep on living. And she had plenty of things and people to be grateful for. Sylvia would make the most of these short, brisk, autumn days. At least she had Solo to keep her company. As they headed toward winter, Sylvia wondered- if there was something beyond life- if Hans was thinking of her, and if he missed her as much as she missed him.


	3. I'll Be Seeing You (In All The Old Familiar Places)

August, 1984

  
  


Sylvia sat at her gate in JFK, impatiently waiting for her plane to arrive. Time had slowed to a crawl. She felt like she’d been sitting here for decades, and her patience was starting to wear thin. Then there was the fact her legs were starting to fall asleep. She was surrounded by all sorts of characters: haughty-looking women in pearls and power suits. Businessmen, looking ready for another day on Wall Street. A lot of men **and** women wearing tracksuits. Teenagers in brightly colored clothes. God, she’d never seen so much big hair.

Here she was, on yet another trip without Hans. No matter how many times she did it, it never felt right. Miri had offered to join her, but Sylvia politely declined. These days, she had her hands full with Wendy and Alex- who were twelve and fifteen now. When did they grow up so fast?! It was unreal. Besides, she instinctively felt- she knew, somehow- that this was a journey she had to take alone.

 _Finally_ they started boarding passengers. The line began moving slowly along. Sylvia felt relieved as she settled into her window seat. It was a long flight- eight and a half hours- but that didn’t scare her. For a while, she kept herself busy reading _The Unbearable Lightness of Being._ Then, she dozed off for the rest of her flight. When Sylvia awoke, they had finally arrived at Vienna International. She staggered off the plane in a daze. She was tired and jet-lagged and just wanted to get to her hotel.

Her hotel room was spacious, with a large single bed, dark floral wallpaper, and plush carpeting. Not bad at all. But it looked a little, well, frumpy. A room someone’s grandmother might like. Sylvia _was_ a grandmother, but she never liked to think of herself as frumpy. Just stubbornly old-fashioned and set in her ways. She turned on the lamp on the nightstand. A soft yellow glow illuminated the darkened room.

Sylvia got into bed and drew the blanket around her. She wanted to read for a while before going to sleep. But she couldn’t focus, she was just too distracted. She knew what the problem was. Hans should be sitting there beside her, chatting amicably with her, or annoying her- as he was so good at doing. He’d been dead for five years, and she still couldn’t get used to being alone without him. Now _that_ was embarrassing.

Nonetheless, she was glad to be here. Vienna was, after all, Hans’ home, and his favorite place in the world. It was a place she could feel closer to him, surrounded by art and music and culture and all these ornate old buildings.

Sylvia had a solution for these nagging feelings. She opened her suitcase and took out a small black velvet drawstring bag. She reached inside and pulled out Hans’ wedding band- now on a thin gold chain- and a silver medal with an engraved picture of Saint George, which she bought at Lourdes two years ago. Lourdes. Sylvia smiled wryly as she remembered. It had been an _interesting_ trip to say the least. She had certainly felt like an outsider, a secular Jew at one of the most important Catholic sites in the world. But she had gone there for Hans, not herself, and in the end, the journey had been worth it.

Sylvia slipped both chains over her neck and got back into bed. Feeling much more relaxed now, she continued her reading. When she was done, she removed the ring and the medal and placed them on the nightstand. What were they, these things that reminded her of Hans? Relics? Mementos? Good luck charms? Whatever they were, they brought her comfort. To her, they were priceless.

The next day, Sylvia decided to do a bit of sightseeing- but it wasn’t the same without Hans as her tour guide/traveling companion. Still, she felt a bit less lonely wearing his wedding band on a chain. It had taken a long time until she felt comfortable enough to wear it in public. She made sure to stop by the opera house and the Natural History Museum, because those were two of Hans’ favorite places. She also visited the Hofburg, the Schonnbrunn Palace, and even St. Stephen’s Cathedral- to appease her husband’s Catholic guilt.

Then, Sylvia stopped to have lunch- and of course, coffee- at a lovely little café. She had worked up quite an appetite walking all over the city. And what a beautiful city it was. She could not imagine how much Vienna had changed since Hans was a boy. A time when men and women alike wore stiff formal clothing, horse-drawn carriages clattered through the streets, and automobiles were a novelty. The world had not yet gone to war. It was less than a century ago. But it somehow seemed much more distant.

As Sylvia leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee, she knew she couldn’t put this off forever. What she had come here to do. She was excited about it, but so, so, nervous. Part of her worried she would be disappointed. That it wouldn’t live up to her expectations. Well, there was only one way to find out…

It took a bit of research on her part, but she found a bus line running outside of city limits that would take her where she needed to go. On the bus, most of the seats were empty. There were only a few other people riding, and they were quiet and kept to themselves. So for all intents and purposes, Sylvia was alone. She didn’t mind that. She looked out the window and watched as the city gradually gave way to countryside. Soon they were driving over a dirt road, surrounded by lush green fields. Here in the country, Sylvia almost felt like they were going backwards in time. Or existing outside of time.

When Sylvia arrived in the village, she saw it hadn’t changed much in the last ninety years. There were charming old houses and cobblestone streets. The people there were modest, hardworking, and had a simpler way of life. She asked where the old Landa property was, and found out it was just down the road. A ten-minute walk at most.

“My husband lived there many years ago.” She wanted to say. The words were on her lips, but they wouldn’t come. Besides, Hans had lived here so long ago, there probably wasn’t anyone left who remembered him.

Sylvia set off down the road to the farm. As she walked, she felt relaxed and at ease. Lightened. Her only regret was taking five years to get here. But she was here now, and that was what mattered. She liked to think that Hans was watching over her. She would carry him in her heart and mind for the rest of her days.


End file.
